


See My World in New Colors

by strong (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Barista Harry, Fluff, Journalist Louis, M/M, i do love liam and niall, just 18k worth of fluff, lots of zouis, sorry liam and niall barely exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:14:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2370680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/strong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis is a stressed journalist and harry is a carefree university student that gets paid to create art in latte foam. they go to a waterfall together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See My World in New Colors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [helenabarbara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helenabarbara/gifts).



> as always, i finished this just minutes before the deadline. (no applause please)
> 
> anyways, this is written to fill [helenabarbara's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/helenabarbara) prompt: "one of them being a frustrated writer and the other, like a waiter or coffee shop boy, who ends up to be the inspiration for a novel."
> 
> i took quite some liberties with the prompt to give it a bit more of an original twist, but i hope it satisfies nonetheless. :)
> 
> i'd finally like to thank [ellie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lovedyoufirst) and [gillian](http://archiveofourown.org/users/louisniall) for being lovely betas and for laughing at me when i was stressing about having to finish the rest of this in the span of two days. that's always great motivation.
> 
> [adri](http://archiveofourown.org/users/waitingfortheendx/) also helped a lot with the planning of this fic and motivating me to continue writing so bigggggg thanks to her also. :)
> 
> (also i am not a journalist so i have no idea what the working rate is and all that and i'm from tennessee, not england. pardon my cluelessness.)

**_More Tube Strikes Planned For November_ **

_by Louis Tomlinson_

_Train drivers union ASLEF are planning further strike action after failing to reach an agreement over continuing grievances between themselves and London Underground management._

_An ongoing dispute between the train drivers and management failed to be resolved after a mass-walkout on the Central and Waterloo & City line last Friday which caused an almost total shut down of the two lines._

_Finn Brennan, ASLEF's District Organiser, said: "The issues at the heart of this dispute - treatment of staff, failing to stick to agreements made, and cuts in safety training - aren't going to go away."_

_He added that the strike had '100 per cent support' from union members._

_Transport for London held talks at ACAS with the union last Thursday but no agreement was reached. ASLEF say they have still not been contacted by the company to address the issues leading to further strike action._

_If no resolution is reached ASLEF union members on the Central and Waterloo & City lines will withdraw their labour between midnight and 23.59pm on October 7th._

“Absolutely fascinating, yet another piece on the complex dynamics of tube governments,” Louis mumbles sarcastically, shutting his laptop once the article is sent out.

It's two am on a Friday night, or practically Saturday morning at this point, and he's been trying to get this piece done for a total of four hours now. His handful of daylight was spent sitting solemnly through a series of meetings and typing up reports on so-called breaking news, leaving him to have to take home his end-of-the-week assignment to get it complete before Saturday night.

Being a journalist, Louis's learned to get things done as quickly as possible because in the end, there's always a great probability that he'll have to go back and rewrite whatever he's finished due to ' _inconsistencies in the developmental structure_ ' or ' _biased/negatively opinionated views on a topic_ '. It's fucking stressful.

At this point it's starting to take a toll on his physical appearance and sadly his normally bright personality. On long nights like this, his eyes start to burn from staring at a computer screen even after he switches from contacts to glasses, his mood seems to decline steadily as time passes leaving him irritable the next day, and the bags under his eyes are prominent for a while after he wakes up even as he desperately drinks multiple cups of tea to wake himself up.

He sets the laptop down on the floor beside his bed - which is simply a stack of mattresses and sheets with no frame - and falls straight back into a pillow. He really needs to take a piss but now that he's gone and let himself rest, there's no chance of him getting back up.

So, instead, he settles for placing his glasses on his nightstand carefully and getting comfortable. The comforter is pulled up to his chin and his head's sunken deep into his overly-expensive feather pillow. All he wants at the moment is to sleep and forget about London news for the next two days, maybe wake up in the morning and go out, get some fresh air in his lungs. He barely gets to finish his thoughts before he sighs and he's knocked out cold.

⋆

Since moving to London, Louis has gotten used to the fact that he's no longer going to wake up to sun shining on his face every morning. It's not like he really _enjoyed_ being woken up by bright rays anyways, but it was still something he'd hoped he'd have to comfort him in this strange city.

Now all he gets in the morning is rain pattering on the window or snow around the later parts of the year. Even on the sunny days the light doesn't pour through his window anyways because his flat doesn't face the direction the sun rises from so- there's that, really.

This morning though, he's awoken by a loud yell. Being harshly snapped from his nice dream of sipping golden champagne and swimming through a pool of money, his mind is instantly set to the fact that something bad is happening. Either a robber or a murderer, he's certain of it.

Before he thinks about it he's stumbling out of his bed, pushing the covers off of him quickly and grunting at how they persistently stay wrapped around him. He's just got on a pair of tight briefs and a worn out t-shirt hanging off his shoulders, but those details don't seen important right now. 

Once he manages to quickly drag himself down the hallway and into the living room, all squinty eyed with hair mussed up about his head, he scans the area to find what the problem is, tightening his limbs in preparation for having to knock somebody out. It's surprising when he finds not a single thing out of place.

Everything is sitting as normal. Nothing is missing or broken, and the front door is still locked as he left it last night. Confusion settles over his still sleep-induced brain as he takes in the scene, which is just as quickly kicked aside by panic when he hears another loud groan come from his guest room. 

A part of him doesn't want to see what's happening but the other more dominant part has his feet slowly inching forward across the cold wood and over to the slightly ajar door. There's muffled sounds of objects clattering and there's a smell floating around that Louis is certain he's come in contact with before, but can't place a finger on what exactly it is.

Mentally he counts down from three and at one, he kicks the door open, nearly falling over in the process because he overestimated the amount of force it’d take. The sound stops once he’s inside the room, replaced with a voice that has Louis slumping his shoulders and sighing in relief as well as stupidity.

“Why the hell have you just busted down the door?” It’s Zayn. 

Zayn Malik, who’s been one of Louis’ closest friends for a couple of years now. They met originally when they got stuck together as roommates in each of their first years at university, and ever since then they’ve sort of just _stuck_. Maybe it’s because of all the memories they have together of staying up til the sun rose to work on essays or getting high behind the theatre building, but either way, their minds are somehow connected now and there’s an infinite bond silently settled between them.

That being said, he and Louis lived apart after they graduated last year; Zayn moving in with his now-ex-girlfriend Perrie and Louis somehow managing to find himself a decent place of his own. It was nice for them to get a break after being forced to share a room for four years straight. Both of them got real jobs and started their lives as individuals, rather small steps or not.

They still saw each other all the time of course, memorized each other’s flats by heart in just a matter of a few months. Those internal maps are completely useless now though because Zayn and Perrie split a few weeks back and now the ‘dream team’ - as they call themselves - has been reunited and is living under the same roof once again until Zayn finds a new flat for himself. It's just like the golden days. 

And in the end it’s just not a big deal that Louis forgot he isn’t alone anymore.

“Thought you were a murderer coming for me and my fancy pillow,” Louis admits in an attempt at a joke. “The real question is why you were screaming at- what is it, about nine in the morning?”

He takes in the room in front of him. It didn’t take long for Zayn to get all of his belongings moved in and set up seeing as he was nice enough to let Perrie keep most of the things they bought together. All he’s got in the small space is a bed much like Louis’ own, an art easel fully set with a large canvas at the moment, a dresser with a set of high-tech speakers sitting on top of it, and of course a full bookcase full of art tools such as brushes and paints and pencils and everything of the sorts that someone could ever dream of. 

The walls themselves provide enough Zayn-ness to make up for the lack of homeliness in his furniture collection. Hanging over the window as improvised curtains are two pirate flags; on the wall above his bed there are multiple paintings that he’s made throughout his whole life, acting as signs to show that Zayn’s always had incredible talent; and scattered across other various parts of the room are band posters and printed copies of artworks and graffiti that he likes. It’s not Louis’ style but he can still appreciate it all.

“It's half past nine, yes. And I was trying to get a true feeling of anger so that the piece I'm working on doesn't just depict anger but also makes whoever looks at it feel what I was trying to capture also," Zayn explains, seeming proud. "Didn't expect you to come barging in here though; you kind of ruined the moment."

"Well sorry I got barely any sleep and I panicked when I heard a scream come from inside of my flat," Louis states unapologetically.

Now that he takes a good look, Zayn's work does sort of look angry. He can't tell what exactly it is but there's lots of dark colors and harsh lines and red splattered across the canvas, so it seems like what Zayn was going for or at least close enough. Zayn's a professional artist, he knows what he's doing.

Zayn shrugs and looks away from Louis to continue painting. "Figured you wouldn't care anyways. It's not like you couldn't have afforded to replace anything that got stolen."

"If it was a murderer I don't think I could've swiped a card to bring myself back to life."

"You never know, rich people manage to get near impossible life advantages these days," Zayn smirks, knowing that Louis hates to be referred to as _rich_ because he’s _not_ he’s just wealthier than average, or _comfortable_ as he always corrects. It’s different.

Louis just hums to brush the comment away and yawns, still trying to fully wake himself up from his wonderful slumber. What he really needs right now is a cup of tea or coffee and a nice blueberry muffin in his system to set the day back on track because so far it seems like it's all going downhill quickly.

"I'm gonna go out for a bit, maybe get a cuppa and something sweet. I don't know. Might even kick a football to relieve some of the stresses of writing for the biggest, most energy-draining media source in the city," Louis announces with fake enthusiasm while he stretches out his back. A few loud pops sound that make him scrunch his face in disgust.

"Alright, well I'll be here most of the day. I just have to teach that painting class from two to half past four so if you come back between those times just know that I haven't been _murdered_ ," Zayn mocks sarcastically.

“Oh would you fuck off, you arse,” Louis says before huffing and stalking back across the flat and into the safety of his bedroom, ignoring the comment Zayn calls about Louis' ass looking nice in his briefs.

Once in his private sanctuary, he get’s ready for the day in a blur of garments. Should he wear his red scoop neck in hopes of running into a hot guy? Would sweatpants be better suited than jeans if he’s going to play football? What the hell is he even supposed to do with his hair?

In the end he trusts the weather app on his phone that let’s him know it’s fourteen degrees out and rainy. Using that information, he decides on his outfit for the day: sweatpants, one of the various Vans shirts that he owns, and a red beanie pulled over his hair covering enough to hide the matted mess but still letting tufts of fringe fall from underneath the edges.

By the time he’s peed, brushed his teeth, thrown on his glasses because he’s too tired to bother with contacts, and finally grabbed the few items he’ll need for the day, he sets out, calling a goodbye to Zayn who genuinely wishes him a great day. He internally thanks him, knowing that he needs all the wishes he can get.

⋆

The walk to the nearest cafe - which has just opened relatively recently - takes just a few minutes which is Louis’ first sign of hope for the day. Wind biting at his face and arms isn’t bearable for much longer than ten minutes due to his already amphibious blood temperature.

Once he arrives, he pulls open the door with the arm he doesn’t have a ball held under and let’s out a soft sigh of relief at the welcoming sound of a jingling bell along with the feeling of complete warmth that settles through his body. There aren’t many people in the small space so already he’s got his sights on a small booth in the corner between the front window and wall.

It’s very homely in the small space. There are abstract pieces of art hung on the brick walls, fairy lights strung across some parts, and the lights hanging down from the ceiling are dimly lit giving the room a calm, secret hideaway type feel that Louis is definitely loving.

Making his way to the front counter, he examines the menu overhead. It seems that they’ve got quite a variety of choices, seeing as there are two whole chalkboards dedicated to different coffee blends and tea flavors. The routine part of him scans over the tea list and wants to go ahead and order a classic cup with two spoonfuls of milk, then the restless, more adventurous part of him wants to try something completely different. Maybe something as daring as a latte.

It’s a tough inner battle for a long moment while both sides of him fight for what he should choose to order and in the end the winner is the daring side because he figures something fresh is long overdue these days. 

“Good morning, what can I make for you today?” The sound of the voice snaps Louis from his thoughts, nearly making him jump out of his own skin.

His eyes quickly snap up to find a pair of green staring back into his. They’re accompanied by a pair of extremely pink lips tugged up into a smile that looks too pleasant for someone who’s spending their Saturday morning behind a register. He also realizes now that he’s been staring at this boy’s lips for much too long and quickly gazes back up at the menu, trying desperately not to look at the curly brunette hair that’s been pushed back with a bright floral headscarf.

“Uh, I think I’m just going to get a latte?” Louis responds a bit unsure. He finally settles his gaze back on the boy, looking him in the eyes while they speak.

“You sure that’s what you want? You sound kind of scared to order it,” Green Eyes says lightly with a small grin. “I can assure you there’s no need to be hesitant. I make the best latte in this hemisphere.”

Louis snorts against his will at that and clears his throat afterwards to cover it up. “Bit _too_ sure of yourself, don’t you think?”

“I think It’s always good to be confident in yourself. Like, if I keep saying that I make the best lattes in this hemisphere, then I’ll actually believe it, even though the truth might be that my lattes are absolute shit,” he laughs and the sound is like a burst of life as soon as it hits Louis’ eardrums.

They’ve spoken about a total of twenty words to each other yet already Louis feels like he knows who this boy is. The guy's last statement itself is only something someone would say if they’re either sure of who they want to be, or already are who they’re going to be - _supposed_ to be. It’s something Louis can easily admire considering he’s always full of doubt and worry, caring too much about the small things, always putting himself down for occupancies that other people restlessly try to insist are fine.

“Well, that’s nice I guess,” Louis offers in response with a small smile. “Just try your best with my drink this one time, yeah? I’d like a real reason to give you a tip other than just your abundance of positivity and joy this early in the morning.”

This get’s an extra bubble of joy from the boy Louis thinks, although it’s hard to tell through his already permanent smile. “It’s nearly eleven.”

“Hey, none of that, just make me my drink.” He reaches into one of his pockets and pulls out a tenner to place on the counter in front of him. “And you can keep the change.”

He watches with careful eyes as Fancy Headscarf grabs the bill and places it in the register, pulling out the correct amount of change which he proceeds to drop in the jar labeled ‘TIPS’ with a few hearts around it. 

“Thanks a ton, I’ll bring your order to you when it’s ready!” he tells Louis with yet another scarily pleasant smile etched upon his face.

All Louis can do is quickly nod and turn around to find a table. Luckily the one he had his eye on when he first walked in is still vacant so he steps over to it and places himself down on the side of the booth that faces the window. His ball sits beside him on the cold vinyl while he gazes out the window, casually people watching, trying not to laugh at the fast paced strides of everyone trying to get out of the drizzle of rain.

It's all extremely cliche in a way that would normally make Louis cringe. Sitting in a remote cafe, watching the rain fall outside, drumming his fingertips on his thigh while he waits for a devilishly good looking boy to bring him his god damned _latte_. This day could easily be a made up figment of the imagination if he thinks about it long enough.

After some moments of staring at passer-bys and getting lost in his scattered thoughts, there's finally the sound of footsteps getting closer and closer to him until he can make out a full figure standing beside the table, just out of the corner of his eye. He slowly tilts his head upwards, letting his gaze trail mindfully up the slim set of legs wrapped in impossibly tight jeans, and unsurprisingly he ends up meeting none other than the green eyes from before. They’re gleaming with something - maybe mischief, hopefulness? - that Louis can’t put his finger on, but he’s certain that it intrigues him.

“One warm latte for one lonely guy,” the boy that he still sadly doesn’t know the name of grins as he places the cup gently down on the spot in front of Louis.

“What makes you think I’m lonely? Maybe I’m just waiting on someone,” Louis responds defensively. He blindly reaches out and picks up the mug, taking a tiny sip of the hot liquid while he continues to stare up at the boy. 

“Well, you didn’t glance at the door even once and didn’t seem too worried about someone arriving,” he notes with a tilt of his head. Then, his eyes trail down to the cup in Louis’ hands and he - well, he full out frowns. “Heyy. You already drank it? Did you even see the message?”

“Erm,” Louis pauses, caught off guard by the questions. He glances down at the cup and, well, _now_ he can see the remnants of some sort of art sitting on top of the latte in the foam. Sadly he didn’t get to see what it was before he started sipping it down so he looks up at the sad boy guiltily. “Oops.”

Curly Hair bites on his lip and sighs through his nose loud enough for Louis to hear. It almost makes him feel bad for not reading whatever was written in the drink but then he remembers that it’s not _his_ fault that he was too distracted to look down at what he was doing. It was definitely the other boy who initiated the conversation leading to the problem they have now.

“It said hi,” the boy states, in a normal tone once again with a calm expression. “Nothing too important, it just had a smiley over the ‘i’ that took a few tries to form correctly. Latte art is a precise and prestigious art; only the best can do it correctly.”

Louis was expecting the message to have said something great and grand, something straight from some ancient piece of poetry or a classic literature book from centuries ago, but no.

_Hi._

“Ignoring the self compliment you threw in at the end there, I’m surprised you just wanted to say hi considering we’d already been speaking before now and the latte was your one chance to impress me,” Louis says with a grin just large enough to show that he’s teasing.

“I figured my bright smile would be enough of an impression to last at least until the next time we meet.”

And yes, Louis can definitely admit that the smile would’ve been enough to tie him over until he’s inevitably drawn back into this shop, but he can’t let Harry know that.

“I don’t even know your name,” Louis says, reaching to push his glasses up his nose and take another slow sip from his drink. “You don’t know mine. That’s not a good basis for me to want to return here again, anytime soon at least.”

“Harry,” Green Eyes smiles. He puts a large hand out for Louis to shake and for a moment all Louis can do is marvel at the rings slid upon his long fingers and the tattoos painted across his wrist and the edge of his hand. “Harry Styles.”

Louis eyes him cautiously but eventually gives in, slowly raising his hand up and placing it in Harry’s. The size comparison between them is almost comical with Harry’s practically engulfing Louis’ own when they grasp each other tightly. 

“Name’s Louis Tomlinson. Hi.”

⋆

By the time the next weekend rolls around, Louis is more strung up than he’s been in a long while. For one thing, he already has to deal with the constant stress of being an executive writer for a huge media publisher with assignments due two to three times a week, but for the past few days he’s also had the added weight of Harry Styles pressing into every corner of his mind.

From the time he set foot out of the cafe the previous Saturday, his mind has turned into a clockwork of gears all painted in bright green and grinding against each other like the skin of a soft hand gripping a callused one, burned from too many hot-beverage spills. 

It can’t be healthy for his mind to wander off to thoughts of smooth lattes while he’s in his office trying to write and it can’t be humane at all for him to think about long,slim legs before he goes to sleep each night. All of the images and thoughts are building up inside of him, squeezing his veins, filling his skull, making his heart skip a beat every now and then. He hasn’t had these feelings inside of him for years and he keeps trying to deny what he knows the reasonable answer is, avoiding admitting what the feelings _really_ are.

He’s got a crush on Harry.

God, he’s nearly twenty three and it’s not fair that he’s still got to put up with such teenage problems. He feels like he should enroll himself back into primary school and let the feeling ride out by itself until he watches Harry kiss another boy in the locker room, extinguishing any possibility of a future between them.

Of course though, the only real and reasonable thing for him to do now is to push aside all of the unnecessary whirls in his stomach and man up enough to go back to the cafe for a proper conversation with the boy who hasn’t left him alone for a week. So that’s what he does, forcing himself to wake up at half past nine just for the occasion, so he knows for sure that Harry will be on shift.

Today he settles on his pair of jeggings - as Zayn insists they are - because as much as he knows they show off each muscle and curve of his legs, they’re also extremely warm and comfortable enough for the treacherous walk. 

He slides on a hoodie to cover his torso that proudly displays the logo of the Doncaster Rovers which is unsurprisingly his hometown football team. The sweatshirt always reminds him of home and thinking of home always raises his mood, and it's especially needed on early mornings when he’d much prefer to be sound asleep under his covers than awake trying to face the world.

When he walks out of the front door this time, Zayn is still luckily sleeping and not screaming at a bloody looking canvas. He takes it as a good omen.

Outside, the city is just coming to life. There are cars whirring past and people bustling about, coffees in hands and hoods pulled over heads. The sun has nearly fully risen at this point, casting a gentle orange glow over every building and bouncing off of every window that Louis catches sight of. If only the pink tints of the sky and the soft rays could do something to actually create warmth, Louis would be extremely grateful.

The familiar bell dings above his head as he enters the cafe and the aroma of fresh tea and coffee seeps into his skin. By instinct, he immediately looks behind the counter and it’s a great relief when he spots a mop of brunette hair pulled up into a bun along with a face that’s been haunting his dreams lately.

He slowly makes his way up to the front and Harry’s smile warms him more than the heater of the room does. He’s looking at Louis like he’s a puzzle that needs solving or an expensive piece of artwork on display in a museum. It almost makes Louis want to shrink in on himself to avoid the unfavorable opinions that may start forming in Harry’s head the longer he keeps up the examination.

“Good morning,” Louis breathes out through a smile that he knows barely reaches his tired eyes.

“Good morning, Louis,” Harry returns equally as bright, if a bit more. He flips his elbows outwards and places his palms down on the counter, leaning onto them comfortably. “I see you’ve traded out your glasses today. Your eyes look extra blue without the lenses blocking them, by the way.”

The comment goes straight to Louis’ stomach and sends a tingle through his veins. “Yeah, uh, thanks. Didn’t feel like hiding behind some frames today.”

“Well that’s good, you should always want to see the world through plain eyes so you don’t risk anything altering your perception.” Jesus, Harry should be a philosopher. Maybe he was in some distant past life.

“Quite the deep quote,” Louis notes. He starts rocking back and forth from his toes to heels idly while he awaits a response.

“You think so?” Harry asks sounding somewhat hopeful like Louis’ opinion will really make a difference in his life. 

“Yeah, it was nearly as deep as your voice and that’s saying something,” Louis teases with a grin, watching as Harry let’s out a snort. 

He finds it very simple to tease Harry as if they’re already close friends which is a status that usually takes a while to achieve with Louis. He figures it’s a good thing though, makes it less awkward trying to figure out where the friendship barriers stand later on. 

“So are you going to order anything or are you just going to _harass_ me about my deep quotes and voice?” Harry asks, trying to sound proper and offended although his bright eyes and hint of a smirk give him away instantly.

Louis hums and looks up at the menu. Same things as last time, but this time he decides to venture over to the pastry section, eyeing over several delightful sounding bites. The cheesecake sounds good but he doesn’t think it would be best suited for breakfast, so in the end he decides on just a blueberry muffin that he didn’t get the previous week and another latte.

Harry let’s him know that he’ll bring it out as soon as it’s ready and Louis nods his head in acknowledgement before turning around to find a table. The booth next to the window is taken by a girl surrounded by multiple empty drink mugs, typing away quickly on her laptop in a routine Louis himself performed numerous times in uni. She seems like she needs the seat more than he does anyways.

He makes his way over to a different table, one standing alone with two seats on either side of it. There’s a thin white sheet hanging over it that falls onto the chairs, giving it a nice feel like you could use it for a fancy date or for breakfast on a Sunday morning. 

There’s nothing much in the small shop to look at so Louis pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through his social media apps and texting people. Well, he’s really just texting Zayn but that’s because he’s the only one of Louis’ friends that’s insane enough to wake up before eleven on a Saturday willingly. They’re just chatting about football and Louis desperately avoids Zayn’s attempts at guiding the conversation off to the reason why Louis is up early and at a coffee shop for the second week in a row.

While he’s in the middle of typing out a snippy reply, there’s a movement in the corner of Louis’ eye and he lifts his head from where it’s resting on his palm to look up at Harry. The boy sets the latte and giant, sugar-coated muffin down on the table and just as Louis goes to thank him, he trails off in the statement because Harry is pulling the chair across from him out and sitting down as if he were invited to do so.

Louis expects him to say something but he doesn’t. He just sits there casually and watches Louis with no hint of expression on his face which is- it’s a bit odd.

“Don’t you have-” Louis starts when he’s interrupted.

“Would you look at the cup already before it melts!” Harry bursts out exasperatedly, his eyes going wide as he nods his head down towards the mug. 

Louis is taken aback by the sudden outburst but directs his attention towards the drink nonetheless.

The way his lips curl up as he examines today’s latte art is an unconscious act. Harry’s apparently chosen to create a football today, full with a little zigzag grass pattern spread out under it. He can’t help but marvel at the details somehow formed into the white foam, how Harry can do this so easily and has chosen to do it for _him_.

“Oh, it looks incredible,” Louis tells him genuinely, soaking in the bright grin he gets in return. “You’re really amazing at this latte art stuff. I don’t understand how you do it. And how’d you know to make a football for me?”

“Well thank you very much Louis, I’m glad someone finally appreciates my personal touch on the drink. And I just figured since you literally carried a ball in here with you last week that you might enjoy one in your drink,” Harry says, a dimple forming in his cheek as he diverts his eyes down to the table cloth and starts picking at a frayed edge.

“Yeah, fair point,” Louis laughs lightly. He cautiously staring at Harry as he picks at the soft white fabric, ready to quickly look back at the cup if the boy decides to look back up suddenly.

There’s a moment of quietness where Louis doesn’t know if Harry is going to sit there for the entirety of the time Louis stays and if he’s supposed to start up another conversation or let Harry eventually dismiss himself from the table. He doesn’t really want the last option to happen, but he’s not sure what to do in the meantime until it comes to that point of the meeting.

“I, uh, took a ten minute break you know,” Harry finally states, raising his gaze back up to meet Louis’.

The statement doesn’t seem to hold any significant information relating to Louis, so he just slowly nods. “And why’s that?”

“So I could talk to you?” Harry says it as if he’s not sure whether it should be a question or not. For the first time since Louis’ talked to him, he actually seems to be unsure of himself which is a whole section of wonderment in itself.

“Really?” Louis asks dumbly, not understanding why Harry would really _want_ to talk to him more than an average hello-goodbye conversation.

“There’s just something about you,” Harry starts then pauses, looking down at the cloth between his fingers again. He shakes his head as if thinking something to himself, his bun not moving an inch, and then picks his head back up with a sweet lopsided smile on his face. “You’re interesting, Louis Tomlinson.”

That’s great. That’s absolutely fucking fantastic. This guy who Louis hasn’t been able to stop thinking about thinks he’s _interesting_ and that’s the one thing Harry could’ve said out of everything that makes whether he’s actually interested in Louis or not completely unclear.

“Interesting,” Louis repeats, pulling off a bit of his muffin and chewing it slowly. He takes a moment to swallow it and then clears his throat, trying to seem as casual as possible. “What exactly is that supposed to mean? I’m not a very _interesting_ person.”

“Well,” Harry says, “For starters, you’re one of the only customers that orders lattes. Normally it’s just a combination of different coffees and teas, sometimes a hot chocolate when it’s exceptionally chilly outside. Also, you don’t do anything when you come in, you just either sit on your phone or stare out the window watching people go by. I mean, I’m no sociologist or anything, but it’s just- it’s kind of odd I guess that you wake up this early and are clearly exhausted and don’t even have a task to do.”

As he’s been talking, Harry’s seemed to struggle to find the right words and it’s endearing in a cliche sense that he can’t find the right words to describe Louis. He continues to listen intently though, holding back a smile and scoff at the same time at the words coming from the opposite’s mouth.

“But I could be completely misjudging you and you’re just a normal guy who likes to wake up early and drink lattes for no unusual reason at all. Or maybe _you’re_ actually a sociologist and that’s why you watch people.” Harry’s face scrunches up like he’s worrying about something now and he looks up at Louis with wide eyes. “Oh god, are you? Am I, like, ruining your study? I’m so sorry I didn’t-”

“Hey, mate, calm down, you haven’t ruined anything I swear,” Louis interrupts quickly, reassuring Harry that he’s in the okay. “I’m not a sociologist, I’m a journalist. I was just watching people the other day because I was bored and seeing them run in the rain was entertaining.”

The panic inside of Harry seems to subside and he let’s out a long breath through his nose. He reaches his hands up to the top of his head to fix his bun and then speaks up.

“Sorry. That’s terrible though you know,” Harry smirks. “Laughing at people getting soaked by the rain. Shameful.”

“I never said I laughed at them I was just entertained!” Louis defends while shoving another pinch of muffin into his mouth. 

The sugar on top of it really makes the flavor of the muffin ten times better than one would normally be and the way it melts on his tongue distracts him from the possible playful flirting going on between him and Harry. The sip of his drink gives him an extra boost of energy for the next round.

“Okay this a kind of off topic and somewhat blunt, but do you think I could get your number?” Harry blurts out suddenly causing Louis’ jaw to freeze in place where it’s chewing the soft bread. He seems to take Louis’ reaction as a sign of rejection because he starts pouring out more words than his mouth can keep up with.

“Sorry, sorry, you don’t have to I just figured- I don’t know, maybe we could talk more outside of here. But it’s fine you know, if you-”

“How many times are you going to make me have to interrupt you to get you to shut up,” Louis laughs incredulously, ignoring the way his heart is beating faster than it was moments ago. 

Harry’s cheeks redden and he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, releasing it from his teeth a second later looking softer and impossibly pinker.

“Hopefully just a handful,” he admits playfully, the dimple in his left cheek resurfacing.

The next minute is spent with Louis desperately trying not to focus too hard on the dimple and both of them putting their numbers into each other’s phones. When Harry hands his phone to Louis he can’t help but snort at the case covered in a pattern of bananas. Harry frowns until Louis assures him that the case is amazing.

As soon as they’re finished, Harry’s boss - who Harry explains is a guy named Nick and is actually one of his good friends - calls out for Harry to get back behind the counter. He waves back and tells Nick that he’ll be just a second then flashes a cheesy smile to the man who just rolls his eyes as he turns back around.

“You only drank half of your latte,” Harry frowns at Louis as he examines the small cup.

He pushes his chair back and stands up, going over to the counter to grab one of the paper to-go cups before bringing it over to the table. Without any consent from Louis, he grabs the drink and pours it into the waiting container, sealing the lid on tight with a satisfied hum.

“Now you can drink it on your way back home then go back to sleep with a belly full of my delicious barista skills,” Harry tells him with a wide, genuine smile. 

“What makes you assume I’m going to go back to sleep? Last time I went out and kicked a ball about, maybe today I’ll go take a jog, loosen up my muscles,” Louis says, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms for added effect.

He stands up now and finds himself looking upwards to meet Harry's eyes. It's not a big blow to his self confidence but it isn't the most empowering feeling having to look up at someone who's definitely younger than you.

"You're defensive when you're tired," Harry teases with a grin that Louis wants to wipe off his gorgeously rose-colored lips.

He purses his lips instead and tugs a piece of hair loose from Harry's bun. "Get back to work, bun boy."

Harry let's out a cackle and it's like an immediate burst of energy into Louis' veins. The boy's eyes spark from a forest to something brighter, more ridiculously poetic like grass under an early morning light.

Everything about Harry gives him a youthful feel apart from his devilishly nice legs and the series of tattoos inked across all of his revealed skin. The delectability of the contrast seems nearly impossible.

"I would make a comment about _your_ buns but I'll save it for later." The grin doesn't leave his face for a second, only growing wider when Louis' cheeks flush.

"Alright yeah, I'll talk to you later," Louis stutters out embarrassingly. "Text you and whatnot."

And that's how their conversation ends as Nick calls again for Harry and the boy - with a clear genuine heart - apologizes quickly with deep green eyes again before running back behind the counter and pushing through a swinging door to the back area. 

Louis is left standing with his latte in one hand and a bit of muffin in the other which he pops in his mouth quickly, reveling in the sweetness that takes over his tongue. He then quietly leaves the cafe and heads back to his flat where he immediately curls up with a heavy blanket on the couch.

It's not twenty minutes later when he hears shuffling from the guest room, a door open, then a tired looking Zayn trudging into the living area and falling onto the cushion beside Louis with a grunt.

"Coffee?" Zayn asks, nodding towards the cup resting on the coffee table.

"Latte."

"Since when do you drink fucking lattes?" Zayn's accent is thick with sleep and Louis finds himself laughing at the way 'fucking' sounds like 'fookin'.

"Last weekend," Louis responds simply.

There's a baking show on the television screen and although he's just had a muffin, Louis thinks he could really go for some brownies now. Maybe he could get Zayn to make him some before he starts his interrogation.

"You went back to that place, didn't you," Zayn asks as a set fact rather than a question. Louis just hums in response.

It's quiet for a moment while Zayn pulls the thick blanket from under Louis' thigh to pull around himself. Once they're settled into each other's sides, sharing heat under the blanket, the boy speaks up again.

"So who's your secret admirer?" He questions and Louis startles at the statement.

"What do you mean? I don't have a secret admirer, that's primary school shit," Louis responds with a look of offense written across his face.

Zayn sighs and pulls a hand out from under their cover, reaching out for something before Louis can even take note of what it is. He picks Louis' phone up from where it was resting beside him on top of blanket and clicks it back on to the lockscreen.

"Well you've got a message from someone named ' _your secret admirer winky face'_ so if you don't know who it is I'll be a little worried," Zayn laughs, just a simple huff, as he reads the screen.

Louis hopes the way that his heart is beating faster can't be noticed with the closeness between them. His mind's racing with lovely thoughts of pink lips and dimples and it takes a moment too long for him to actually go and read the message.

_From: your secret admirer ;)_

_So.... about your buns._

God, it's barely even long enough to be considered a sentence yet Louis finds himself smiling. In his head he can just _hear_ Harry's deep voice saying that to him, awkwardly drawing out the 'so' and chewing on his bottom lip.

_To: your secret admirer ;)_

_they're nice right ?? defo not as nice as yours though . in the hair and /other/ senses....._

He hits send with a swift motion of his thumb but before he can lock the screen from Zayn's curious eyes, there's already chuckling sounds from beside him.

"Never thought I'd see you flirting with guys again, bro," Zayn states.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Louis asks him sharply with a harsh stare. Maybe Harry was right about his defensiveness when he's tired.

Zayn sighs and shrugs a shoulder up lazily. "Ever since we left uni you've gotten more invested in work and lost all the Old Louis charm you used to have. You don't talk to guys much anymore, don't _ever_ throw parties; you've just become a borderline loner who's always stressing about your articles. You just don't enjoy life properly anymore, you know?"

That hits Louis hard. There's not even an explanation as to why it affects him so much, but he finds himself deflating and even the ding from his phone doesn't spike his heart rate again.

 _'Lost all the Old Louis charm.'_ It's not a surprise to him because he's aware that he's mellowed out a bit, but he always assumed it was for the best. Leaving all of the crazy times behind and becoming a more mature adult with a job and a flat — any graduate's goal, right?

And it's not like he purposely stresses about his articles. If his boss didn't assign such difficult topics maybe he could be more laxed but that's not the case. Of course, he could probably loosen up some and at least not snap at Zayn when his best friend interrupts him while he's trying to finish typing something up like he did last week.

"I'm not trying to knock you though," Zayn adds a moment later. "You're still fucking sick, you just have some fallbacks. Everyone does."

It doesn't help Louis' mood raise back up and Zayn seems to sense that. He lifts an arm up and wraps it around Louis' shoulders, tugging the brunette into his side. 

Louis sinks into the hug as soon as Zayn gets a second arm around his front. He smiles gently into Zayn's shoulder and let's the embrace last for a minute or so before pulling back and leaning back into the couch.

"What I'm trying to get at is that I love you and this secret admirer kid seems to be helping you break from your barriers back to more of your old self. It's nice," Zayn explains as the TV changes to a new episode of whatever show they're not really watching.

Louis smiles again and nods. "Love you too and by the way, his name is Harry."

⋆

In a span of another two weeks they fall easily into a friendly relationship. Well, apart from some specific comments from both parties about each other's asses and other various body parts it's friendly.

Once Harry initiated their text conversations, there hasn't been a moment that Louis' phone hasn't buzzed with an incoming message. Most of the time it's just Harry sending him a dumb picture of himself while he's bored at work or a knock knock joke he always claims is his best one yet. Sometimes it's just a nice message though, reminding Louis to smile and have a great day, not to stress over things that don't really matter. It's nice.

Louis finds himself unconsciously letting Harry into his life quicker than he normally does with others. At this point the only thing they probably don't know about each other are their penis sizes but he figures that fact will more than likely make an appearance in the near future.

It's about noon right now and Louis is sitting at his desk at work, his feet resting on the wooden top while he buttons and unbuttons his shirt. He's supposed to be writing but instead he's having an inner turmoil about something completely unrelated to the possible rigging of Scotland's vote for independence. 

He's thinking about Harry of course. He's gone and visited him at the cafe a few times before work and on the weekends but he can't help but notice how they don't see each other outside of that. The debate he's having in his head right now is over what he should do about it.

They've got a friendly yet flirty relationship going on at the moment so he still can't decipher whether Harry's actually interested in him romantically or not. For a while Louis had his mind set on the fact that they wouldn't get together because, while Louis himself had a crush, he tried to say that it wouldn't last, that it'd fade eventually once they became better friends. Eventually he gave up on trying to convince himself to believe that.

So now he's stuck with deciding where they could go together without crossing any imaginary boundaries. A park would be good, but that can also borderline a date. Meeting at one of their flat's could be alright, but there are so many factors and things that could happen that Louis is weary about that idea too.

Maybe he just needs to man up and invite Harry over without consulting the worrying part of his mind. He should just send a text out to Harry and ask if he wants to hang out and get it over with, simple as that.

So that's what he does.

_To: bun boy ;)_

_hey my flat mate is going out tonight and im gonna be lonely :( wanna come by and keep me company ?_

Once he manages to hit the button to send it he feels a weight lift off his shoulders. It's immediately replaced by a new weight though, one that's resting in his gut this time. He knows it's dumb to be nervous about what Harry will respond but this is a big deal to him at the moment so who really cares what the common nervousness standards are?

The instant he hears a sound from his phone he snaps his eyes down and picks the device up to read what the message says.

_From: bun boy ;)_

_Yeaaahhhhh that could be fun.. :) Text me your adress and I'll come over after my last class ends at 9:45?_

He said yes. Actually, he said ‘yeah’ with a lot of extra letters plus a few more words, but in short he said _yes_.

Louis finds himself grinning down at his phone with excitement, his mind already planning out what he'll sadly have to clean up around the flat and what he should wear when Harry arrives. He sends his address with a cheeky winky face after it and gets back to work quickly. He types up a nonsense report with a few fancy words thrown in, hoping that it's good enough for his boss so he'll be able to leave as soon as possible and put a rest to the twists in his stomach before they kill him first.

⋆

_From: bun boy ;)_

_Sorry had to stay after to talk to my prof about a project and half the class had the same idea, be there in a bittt x_

It’s about half past ten now and there aren’t many words to describe how Louis feels at the moment. 

One part of him is unresting, constantly firing his heartrate up as the nerves take over. He hasn’t been on a date or even as much as invited anyone over other than Zayn and a close group of others in over a year. He’s scared that he’s lost his charming touch after such a long, dreadful plateau and that Harry might get bored of him within the first hour.

Another part of him is restless in a better way though. This part of him is thinking about all the positives about finally having someone in his flat for the first time in so long. According to Zayn, he’s subtly guarded himself for a while now and maybe tonight is the first step in going back to his old self - to bringing back the _life_ to his life. 

There’s still no distinction as to whether this could be considered a date or not, so he doesn’t let himself worry about it. Unless they cuddle on the couch to watch a sad movie and share a bowl of popcorn while their hands ‘ _accidentally’_ meet in the middle, he figures it must not be anything more than two friends chilling together. Nothing more unusual than how him and Zayn are nearly every day once they get home from their separate jobs.

Louis is trying to find some food at the moment. As much as they go through junk food and constantly resupply it all, he can’t seem to find anything worth munching on for the night. There’s just a few individually wrapped cupcakes and some half-eaten bags of chips scattered on top of the fridge and the other cabinets don’t hold much more than some popcorn and pot noodles which one of Louis’ few other friends ‒ a happy-go-lucky Irishman named Niall ‒ might’ve brought over once and never taken back. In the end he settles on the cliche bowl of popcorn along with some sweets casually sitting on the counter for Harry to decide whether or not he’d like to eat them. 

With the flat looking oddly tidy and organized with blankets folded over the couch, no clothes thrown about the floor, and none of his and Zayn's joints carelessly laid down in plain sight, Louis figures this is it. He’s finally ready for this long awaited night even though it’s starting a little later than he was hoping.

With one last tousle of his hair, he hops onto the kitchen counter and starts to munch on the buttery, salty treat he’s just made while he waits for Harry to arrive. It’s about five minutes and too many kernels later that there’s finally a knock on the door. Louis nearly falls as he wiggles himself off the counter and stumbles helplessly over to the door like an over-excited puppy.

He pulls the door open slowly to mask his giddiness. Behind it stands Harry, slowly being revealed as he pulls the wood back further.

Now, Louis has seen Harry in a variety of outfits with plenty of different hairstyles, but this has by far got to be the _absolute_ best.

Rather than a headscarf or a bun on his head, Harry’s decided to let his hair loose and _god,_ how did Louis not notice how long and luscious it was before now? It doesn’t stop at his hair though; trailing his eyes further down the boy in front of him, Louis examines his outfit choice. 

His jeans are still skintight and nothing less, but instead of the usual black color, they’re a deep blue — they’re actual _blue jeans_. Harry wears them as well as a model would and honestly even better than any A-lister one could. Unsurprisingly he’s got on the same suede brown boots that he’s worn for the past few weeks, but the final piece of his outfit is what makes Louis’ heart literally stutter to a stop for a moment.

The shirt Harry’s wearing is a classic button-up, hanging loosely off his limbs. The unique factor is that it’s _sheer_ though, everything beneath the garment showing clearly through the thin black fabric. Harry’s torso looks absolutely delectable and the tattoos - including afucking _butterfly on his stomach_ \- look as if they belong on his body, painted and hand-crafted for him by the finest artists of this and past centuries.

Compared to the beautiful entity in front of him, Louis feels like a complete bum dressed in just some grey sweats with a maroon sweatshirt thrown over his chest. It takes all of his self control to finally tear his eyes from Harry and tell himself not to get too obsessed with the sight in case it won’t ever really be his because unrequited crushes are always the worst kinds.

“Hii,” Harry says, breaking the trance once and for all. He’s smiling at Louis with his lips pulled in, making his cheeks round out like a frog.

“Hi,” Louis responds breathily with a small smile. “You can come in now, sorry. Probably wouldn’t be a very good host if I didn’t even let you in the door.”

Harry snorts but carefully steps forward into the flat once Louis moves out of the way. Louis closes the door behind him and stands back for a second to let Harry take in the space. 

“Nice place you’ve got. A lot bigger than the one I share with my friend Liam right now,” Harry laughs to himself. He shakes his head and Louis watches in awe as the curls sway from side to side at the motion. “Our place could _literally_ be your dust closet.”

“Oh shut up, this place isn’t any better than the dorm rooms at most universities,” Louis scoffs, making Harry turn around to face him. “And anyways, it’s probably better living in a dust closet because that means there’s a lot less to worry about cleaning. Zayn physically has to force me to pick up around here at least once a week.”

“I could see that,” Harry grins before looking down at his bots and scuffing them softly on the ground.

Louis doesn’t bother asking what that’s supposed to mean, just rolling his eyes instead. Finally after a moment or two of some chatting and standing around, Louis grabs the snacks and a beer and water from the fridge at Harry’s request. He tells Harry he can kick his shoes off if he wants before he’s flopping back into the couch with a huff, Harry following soon after.

They fall into a peaceful state of chill for a while as they talk and laugh at each other as the tv plays various MTV shows in the background. Louis learns some new things about Harry, just little facts that wouldn’t cross his mind to even ask about, and he let’s Harry in on some little details about himself also. Nothing too important, only a few things jokingly mocking at how he used to be and how his personality’s changed now. He pretends not to notice the way Harry’s brows furrow at each small blow at himself.

It all eventually turns into boredom too quickly for Louis to keep up with. In about two hours they manage to go through all the snacks, leaving them full-bellied and aching for something to do other than watch tv shows all night. 

Louis feels like it’s partly his fault that the night has turned out to be such a drab. He figures he maybe could’ve planned it out more rather than expecting exciting things to happen all on their own. He fears that Harry’ll never want to come over again, too kind to say anything to Louis’ face so letting him down easy with pitiful excuses instead.

They’ve been in silence for a beat longer than usual when Harry speaks up again, clearing his throat first with a hand rubbing at his thigh.

“What did you mean earlier when you were saying all those things like you _used_ to love going out at night and you _used_ to ‘enjoy life properly’?” He asks it cautiously like he’s afraid of pushing Louis to say something so private.

Louis thinks about it for a moment then shrugs with a sigh. “I used to be the center of attention. All my life really I’ve been that one guy who thrives off of attention, doing anything good or bad to get it. Everyone would ask me to hang out, invite me to parties ‘cus they thought we were best friends when really I didn’t know most of their names. Now I kind of just stopped caring about all of the social business and focus more on work which I thought was a good thing, but Zayn’s recently told me otherwise.”

The look on Harry’s face isn’t as much of a pitying look as it is a contemplative one. He appears to be thinking about something, soaking in what Louis said, turning it over in his head. Now, Louis isn’t sure _why_ he’s bothering to think so much about his words, but he can admit he’s glad someone’s finally willing to listen.

“You know, I’ve always been the complete opposite,” Harry admits slowly. “I used to be the quiet kid, hiding away from people, focusing solely on passing my uni classes, only sticking to the friends I knew best. One day I remember working a slow hour in the dingy cafe on campus. I was just resting against the front counter watching out the window as this guy kicked a football about, screaming and laughing with his friend. I basically just decided _‘fuck it’_ after seeing someone that happy, that outgoing, that _in the moment_ and completely worked to flip my personality around. I went from being the shy nice kid that people just used for favors to becoming the guy that brightens people’s days and walks around half naked on campus just for fun to get people laughing while they get out of their morning stick.”

He pauses for a moment and looks up at Louis with a sheepish look on his face that makes Louis nervous about what he’s going to say next. Instead of saying something though, Harry opens then instantly shuts his mouth again, a suspicious dimple appearing beside his lopsided closed-lip smile.

Louis wants to ask what Harry was about to say but since Harry didn't press him into talking about something, he has the decency to do the same.

“That’s nice,” Louis offers lamely in response. He smiles reassuringly at Harry who just nods in return.

“I'm getting a bit bored,” Harry says, letting out a long breath afterwards. Louis agrees. “Let’s play a game then.”

It’s a nice, sudden change from the conversation they were having, so Louis accepts it. He starts racking his brain for games they could play but nothing comes up other than dirty ones he remembers instigating at dorm parties.

“I’ve got nothing,” Louis says. He looks over at Harry with hopeful eyes, waiting for him to think something up.

It takes a moment, but it’s obvious when he’s thought of something because his eyes light up and he hums quietly.

“Do you have alcohol? Preferably anything but beer?” Harry asks him quickly with raised eyebrows. Louis wants to roll his eyes at Harry’s clear distaste for one of his favorite things to drink around the flat but he wills himself not to if only to spare having to see the boy pout.

“I think I did but Zayn and I polished off the last of everything a while back. We just go out when we want drinks now. It’s nice being able to mix things up every time, though I do miss being able to drink my stress away without having to go out into the world,” Louis tells him, letting the last part slip out accidentally.

Harry just furrows his brows and hums again. “Well we can’t do the drinking version of twenty questions then, but we could still play it if you’d want to?”

“Yeah,” Louis grins. “That’d be fun. Get to know some dirty little secrets about you.”

Beside him, Harry clearly blushes, making Louis feel proud for having not lost whatever touch he used to have when flirting with guys. Maybe Harry’s just too easy though seeing as he’s still younger and probably takes teasing more deeply than someone like Louis does.

They reposition themselves so they’re facing eachother, Louis with his legs crossed in front of him and Harry with a leg tucked under one thigh with the other leg resting on the floor. Louis can’t help but just notice the difference in how they’re both sitting, taking in the way Harry can’t even sit the way Louis is because his legs are too long to fit on the couch. The height, limb, and overall body difference is really starting to frustrate him.

“Guess I’ll start then,” Harry says slowly, pushing his long hair back with ring-covered fingers. “Are you single?”

The question doesn’t take Louis much by surprise, but he was expecting Harry to at least wait until maybe halfway through the game to ask it. “Skipping straight to the gun, yeah?” He laughs then looks down at his ankles, rubbing at the bone with his hand. “I am though.”

“Good,” Harry says then coughs. “Well, I mean not _good_ , just‒ that’s cool. Yeah. I am too.”

“ _Good_ ,” Louis mocks, attempting to break the little awkwardness pressing between them. “So what, uh, do you like in a guy? Or girl I guess, sorry, I don’t know.”

“I like guys who are funny I guess. Nice smile, nice personality, someone who listens to what I have to say,” Harry responds with a small smile on his face like he’s thinking about someone in particular right now. “Someone kind of like you I guess.”

Now he’s deliberately making this difficult for Louis. He’s basically just come out and said that he’s interested in Louis and now Louis has to use all of his pent up self control to hold himself back from blurting out something he’ll regret or doing something that would haunt him even worse. 

Harry likes him. Harry is interested in him. They both have feelings for each other and Louis is still too fucking nervous and weary to ask him on a real date. It’s not fair in any way.

He tries to calm him racing heart, bat down the butterflies in his stomach as he thinks of an intelligent response to what Harry just said. In the end he just nods his head dumbly, leaving Harry to start chewing on his bottom lip and scratch at his thigh in a nervous way.

“What time is it?” Harry asks instead of another game question. Louis glances down at his phone and calls out the time as Harry yawns in front of him. “We didn’t get very far in our game but I’m honestly dead tired. Do you think we could finish it tomorrow?”

“Oh, yeah that’s fine,” Louis smiles, almost thankful for the nice escape. Almost. “It’ll give me some time to think of better questions.”

Harry snorts and nods in agreement. Then they’re both sitting there quietly, neither making an attempting to move or continue a conversation.

It’s Harry who speaks up after a long moment. “Guess I’ll get back to my place now. Just hope I don’t fall asleep behind the wheel.”

And he doesn’t know what does it, what makes his mind think it's anywhere close to a good idea. Some connection between his brain and mouth short circuited or got cut, maybe went numb from the things Harry said minutes ago, but Louis finds himself blurting out an offer before he can tell himself not to.

“You can stay here” he quickly offers to Harry who stares at him blankly. “I mean, if you want. You could just crash in my bed with me or I could take the couch. You can go home if you’d like to though, I completely understand if-”

“Thanks, I’d love that,” Harry smiles, the dimple forming again as a sign of true cheerfulness. “Really, I don’t mind sharing a bed. Anything’s better than having to go back out in the cold right now honestly.”

“Right,” Louis says slowly. His brain’s still catching up from being cut off. “So just follow me then.”

They both rise from the couch, Harry popping his back first before he follows Louis’ soft steps down the hall to his bedroom. In his panic of the moment earlier, he didn’t bother cleaning his room because the thought of Harry going in there didn’t cross his mind even once. Here they are now though, standing in the doorway at the disaster area that is Louis Tomlinson’s room.

As quickly as he can, he apologizes then starts grabbing random garments of clothing from his floor and tossing them into the laundry hamper in the corner. That’s the main deal of the mess anyways apart from some soda bottles sitting on his bedside table and the scattered papers laying on and around his computer desk.

“Liam would never let my room get this bad,” Harry states from behind him. “Your room isn’t even bad but he cleans mine entirely a few times a week, whether it’s gotten messy at all or not. It’s insane but I am a little thankful.”

“My mate Zayn paints in his room so it’s always a bit chaotic in there meaning he doesn’t give a shit about how _my_ room looks,” Louis sighs, closing his curtain and finally turning around again to meet Harry’s eyes. They stare at each other for a beat too long before Louis glances away. “You can try to wear some of my pajamas if you want, I think I might have some oversized shirts and sleeping pants you could squeeze into.”

“Oh, uh, I actually usually just sleep in my briefs if that’s okay?” Harry asks hesitantly, pulling at his bottom lip with his thumb and pointer finger.

“I usually sleep in a shirt and briefs so I guess if you’re not uncomfortable with that, I’m fine with you sleeping nearly naked,” Louis says with a light tone. He stares at the way the light from the one bedside lamp strikes across Harry’s face, highlighting some features and dimming others into soft shadows. He truly is beautiful, Louis can’t even deny it.

“Don’t have a problem with that at all,” Harry tells him with an over exaggerated wink accompanied by a smile that has Louis cackling into the back of his hand. 

“Just strip and get in the bed already,” Louis manages through his laughter, stripping his sweats off himself and hopping under the covers.

Harry’s not reluctant at all as he rips off his own clothing, though his shirt doesn’t make much of a difference anyways. He casually struggles to pull his jeans off, wiggling around the room, tugging at the ends until they finally give and fall from his feet. It’s when he finally gets into the bed that he starts going slower with cautious movements.

He lifts the comforter and looks up at Louis as if to reassure himself that he still has permission to be sleeping there. Louis just smiles from where he’s sitting and Harry returns it, pulling his long, bare limbs under the blankets and fluffing the pillow up.

“Thanks for this,” he says. He lays down, his hair falling slightly into his eyes and the thin maroon comforter being pulled up his chin making his eyes pop.

“No need to thank me, I enjoy company,” Louis smiles at him. 

Eventually they’re both laying down in front of each other in the dark, only a sliver of moonlight slipping through his curtain and shining across their bodies. It’s enough to illuminate the area enough for Louis to just make out Harry’s face, clearly looking right back at him with a lazy smile and half-closed eyes.

“You deserve someone to cuddle with at night,” Harry hums softly. It seems like it’s just natural to drop your voice lower in the dark, even though it’s no quieter than it was before. It gives the statement more meaning, gives it a white border against the silence of the room around them. 

Louis doesn’t know what to reply to that exactly. He’s always at a loss for words when he talks with Harry because Harry says things that require a thought process equal to his and Louis just isn’t capable of that. He’s a very simple, blunt guy while Harry picks each word carefully and always lets meaning flow into the sentences. 

So instead of an audible response, he just reaches out and brushes Harry’s bangs from his face with a gentle sweep of his fingers. He carefully tucks the hair behind the boy’s ear, revelling in the way it just flows softly through under his touch. If he isn’t mistaken, he could swear that Harry let’s out a sound of contentment, almost like a _purr_.

“Goodnight, love,” Louis breathes out. He lets his eyes roam over Harry’s features softened by the dimmest lighting and finds that there’s absolutely no question about his beauty. He’s something greater than beauty in itself.

It’s kind of scary, these thoughts that are passing through his mind. They’ve only known each other for a month but Louis feels like it’s possible that there’s something bigger than just a friendly crush making his chest feel light and his heart beat quicker. He thinks back to the things they’ve done and talked about in the past weeks- drinking lattes and teas together at the cafe, discussing personal thoughts, sharing feelings for each other in the bluntest ways possible. Maybe there is something else, but he refuses to let himself ponder upon it any longer until they’ve at least gone on a date because whatever _this_ is he’s feeling usually just doesn’t come from being regular friends with someone, no matter how long.

“Night, Lou,” Harry slurs out, pulling Louis from his thoughts. He already sounds close to sleep although they just got into the bed minutes ago.

If Louis stays awake for another hour or so, revelling in the fact that Harry is asleep in front of him, glowing even in the moonlight, his lips parted slightly as he lets out soft breaths, then no one has to know. And if he wakes up in the middle of the night again with his back pressed against a warm body and an arm loosely thrown over his side to keep him pulled in close, then really, _no one has to know_.

⋆

In the morning Louis wakes up cold and lonely in his bed once again. This would discourage him, but the sound of quiet chattering coming from somewhere inside of the flat lets a slither of hope remain in his chest about Harry still being there.

As quickly as he can in his morning slur, he goes pee, pulls on a new pair of sweats, and slides his glasses on his face without bothering to mess with his unfortunate bed head. Dragging his feet across the wood and into the living area, he’s instantly greeted by two cheerful voices that makes his stomach coil tightly already.

“Good Morning, Lou! I’ve been talking to _Harry_ here for a little bit now,” Zayn calls happily from his place leaning against the kitchen counter with a playful mocking tone in his voice. “I didn’t even know he was staying over! Funny that, yeh?”

“Hilarious,” Louis deadpans in a rough, sleep-filled voice.

He inspects what else is going on now too. Harry is in front of the stove frying up what looks to be eggs. He apparently found some things in Louis closet that fit him well enough because he’s got a shirt on that fits quite snugly against his torso and a pair of sweat-shorts that would normally come to Louis’ knee but stop just below his midthigh.

“Good Morning again, Louis,” Harry smiles at him, radiating happiness which is too much for Louis to take in before he’s been awake for at least half an hour. “I’m making eggs on toast for us both. Zayn said he doesn’t want any, so I just assumed you’d maybe want some.”

Louis can’t help but return a small smile at that because it does smell and sound incredibly delicious. Neither him nor Zayn are fluent in the culinary arts so whenever someone else offers to make food, he has no problem accepting it. Anything is better than cheap cereal or overpriced muffins.

“I’ll be on the couch,” he announces before making his way over to it and flopping down. He pulls his legs up and tucks them beside him, watching the Scooby Doo episode playing on the tv.

Soon enough there’s another body sitting close to his. When he looks up, it’s none other than Zayn, looking at him with knowing eyes and a small smirk on his face.

“So he stayed over?” Zayn asks, his tone hinting at something Louis can decipher easily.

“We didn’t fuck, Z,” he states defensively, reaching up to flick his hair. “He was tired so I let him sleep with me. In a completely _platonic_ way. That’s it.”

Zayn hums like he doesn’t really believe him, but let’s it slide to Louis’ relief. “Alright. I like him though. Seems very genuine, with a naturally bright personality‒ he suits you well.”

Louis can't help the way the blood rushes to his cheeks but he tries not to focus on it as he replies, “Stop bringing out your psychology shit to act smarter. Even I can see that about him.”

“I got a minor in psychology and I’m gonna use it when I can,” Zayn responds. “But all I’m really tryin’ to say is that you should go for it, alright? Seriously, let him in. I think he’s really good for you.”

Louis would roll his eyes at the statement, say something about how he doesn’t need Harry to make him be a better person or whatever, but it’s Zayn so he can’t do that. Instead he takes it to heart and nods in acceptance of the information.

“I think he’s good for me too honestly,” Louis admits with a lazy smile. 

Zayn looks like he wants to get another sentence out but before he can, Harry’s striding over with a plate in each of his hand’s. He sets one down on the coffee table in front of Louis then moves to sit on the other end of the couch. Instead, Zayn moves to that spot leaving an empty cushion beside Louis which Harry happily takes with a questionable smile to Zayn.

“This looks great,” Louis notes as he rests his back against the armrest and pulls the plate to rest on his lap. His feet are pushing against the side of Harry’s thigh but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Thanks,” Harry says before biting into the toast. It crunches under his mouth and bits of the bread fall down onto the plate, making him hum in surprise.

Louis snickers then sinks his teeth into his own breakfast. It really _is_ delicious. The bread is toasted to a perfect golden brown and the egg is seasoned with an equal amount of salt and pepper. He can’t help but let out a small moan of delight as he swallows the first bite.

“God, I’m going to have to keep you around forever so you can make me this every morning,” Louis tells him without a hint of joke to his voice. Harry just quietly continues eating with now-rosy cheeks while Zayn’s eyes flit between them both, the faintest genuine smile resting on his lips.

⋆

As he eats his breakfast, Louis may or may not send out a special anonymous message to the paper saying _Thank you Styles for making me eggs on toast today. - Lou, London_ .

⋆

Saturday passed by quickly in a blur of Harry and meaningless news articles about things Louis never knew existed. After Harry left, Zayn still continued to act odd so Louis decided to get some air for a while and headed out to play some footie.

It isn’t much fun playing by himself so he managed to get Niall out to the field with him for a while. They messed about, had a few good laughs, and in the end Louis ended up telling him all about Harry figuring it’d be safer straight from his mouth than the second hand one of Zayn’s.

Niall basically gives the same advice he’s heard before, but he puts it in a more carefree way like it’s ultimately Louis’ decision which is nice. It’s good to feel like he has that sort of control over his own life obviously.

But after they spent a few hours doing that, he headed back to the flat and got straight to work on the article he had been assigned by the head director of his section of the paper. They get more frequent as the year comes to a close because there are so many holidays and the typical crime rate goes up as Christmas nears. It adds some stress, but overall one extra assignment didn’t do him much harm.

He finally went to sleep, ending the long day by showering then watching ‘This Is The End’ with Zayn and arguing over who they would be if they were in the movie. (They eventually settled with Louis being James and Zayn being Seth because neither of those were their first-choice characters so it didn’t matter as much who they got stuck as.)

Now, here he is on Sunday morning, trying to figure out why someone is knocking loudly on his front door at five in the morning. He doesn’t even want to believe that it’s actually that early, but the blinding numbers on his phone screen work to prove that it is in fact true.

For as long as possible he lets whatever inconsiderate dick is at his door keep knocking, forming a steady beat that nearly lulls Louis back to sleep. It’s about six minutes later when the knocking finally stops but his phone rings, blaring loud right by his face. With a grimace he answers it.

“Mmmh?” He hums annoyed into the phone.

“I know you probably want to kill me right now but can you open the front door so I can explain what’s going on,” Harry says quietly into the phone, sounding sorry already for having upset Louis.

“A’right,” Louis signs before shutting his phone back off and letting out a long sigh. 

The sun hasn’t even risen yet, the city outside still as black as it was at midnight. A streak of moonlight is falling across his chest at the moment so he reaches out for it as if he can somehow grab it for assistance to get himself up. Somehow- without the help of the beam of light - he manages to pull himself up from the bed, not bothering with prepping himself for the occasion of letting Harry in.

When he pulls open the door he finds the tall boy fully dressed behind it, hair pulled into a messy bun and face looking much too awake for the hour. Louis stares at him for a second with narrow eyes, trying to process what he’s looking at in his tired brain until Harry starts talking and his mind clicks back into place.

“You aren’t a morning person at all,” Harry laughs softly, the sound calming the storm of upset nerves in Louis’ head.

“Is it that obvious?” Louis asks sarcastically, squinting as the light from the hallway behind Harry floods onto his face.

Harry nods with a smirk on his face then steps inside the flat in the space Louis’ left. Once the door is shut Louis can open his eyes a bit more and he takes in Harry’s full get up.

He’s wearing a loose grey hoodie, bright yellow shorts that look to be made for swimming, a pair of Nike sneakers to match the shorts, and has a backpack slung over his shoulders on his back. If he isn’t mistaken, Louis could almost guess that Harry is dressed to do some sort of physical activity and god, he’s praying he isn’t about to be dragged along. It's much too cold outside anyways for them to be outside doing anything that doesn't involve some sort of heat source.

“So you’re probably wondering why I’m in your flat at five in the morning,” Harry starts slowly. He nervously starts pulling at his lip and by reflex Louis reaches out for his wrist to pull it away. “Uh, I thought we could go hiking. In Stainforth.”

And there it is. 

“Stainforth is hours away, Harry,” Louis sighs. “There’s no even anythin’ out there. Just let me sleep please.”

Harry’s face falls into something less cheerful and if Louis weren’t so damned tired he would say something to fix it. There’s a nagging feeling in his mind though that the only thing to make Harry happy again would be to agree to this impromptu hiking trip and he just really, _really_ doesn’t feel like doing that right now.

“I was planning to hike the trail from Stainforth up to Catrigg Force. It’s this beautiful waterfall that’s secluded from the rest of the town so I figured it might be cool to, I don’t know, go see it together,” Harry explains with a lost sort of hopefulness. “You just said you don’t really enjoy life anymore so I thought, what better way to enjoy it then to hike up to a hidden waterfall miles away from home?”

Put that way, Louis can see how much thought Harry actually put into this. Now that he’s waking up he’s able to think more clearly and the words dig deeper into his core where he knows he couldn’t handle upsetting Harry, the perpetually happy guy.

“What would I even need to bring?” Louis asks.

“Well I have waters and snacks packed in my backpack already, so all you’d need would be maybe a sweatshirt and a phone charger for the car ride up,” Harry says. His eyes downcast to his shoes as he says it and a dimple forms in his cheek. “I kind of told Zayn to pack you a bag already though, so you won’t need to worry anyways.”

That goes to explain why Zayn was acting so knowing and secretive yesterday. Harry must’ve told him the plan for today and managed to break through Zayn’s shyness to get him to help with it. Louis can appreciate that.

“Fine,” Louis gives in, reaching up to push his hair back. “I’ll go to these waterfalls with you as long as you’re driving and agree to carry me through the trail if I get tired.”

“I can do that.” Harry gives him a full dimple smile to which Louis rolls his eyes and turns around so Harry can’t see the small burst of happiness spreading across his features as he makes his way back to his room.

⋆

“Why did I agree to this,” is what Louis says as Harry turns into a spot at the car park. 

After a long five hour drive full of singing and petty banter and one stop at a small roadside restaurant for some delicious pancakes, they’ve finally made it to Stainforth. There doesn’t seem to be many other people there at the moment, hopefully meaning they’ll have both falls to themselves.

Thats one thing that’s changed since the morning; Harry looked the directions up on his phone and found that there’s a path you can take that goes past Catrigg Force _and_ Stainforth Force. He acted like it wasn’t a big deal whether they went or not, but Louis could see through his facade and told him that he’d be fine with visiting both if Harry’d like to. He got awarded for that with a peck on the cheek that made him blush embarrassingly afterwards.

“You agreed to it because you knew it would be a great experience and that it’d make me happy if you went,” Harry offers beside him with a teasing tone to his voice.

“The second part is true,” Louis nods. “I’m not exactly _enthused_ about this, but I know you are so I guess I can handle it.”

They step out of the car then, grabbing their bags and slamming the doors shut. Now that the sun’s out - hidden behind some clouds still, but trying to shine nevertheless - the temperature has risen to a comfortable sixteen degrees which is generous for this time of the year.

“I’ll make sure you have a great time, I promise,” Harry tells him earnestly as they start walking away from the car to the direction their map says.

“Don’t let me down,” Louis warns, gently kicking at the back of Harry’s heel. “I take promises _very_ seriously. I might cry if I don’t have the best day ever here with you.”

“I would still wipe away your tears with my shirtsleeve don’t worry,” Harry laughs lightheartedly.

“Nice Ed Sheeran reference. How’d you know I have a weak spot for him?” Louis asks him with a grin.

“Everyone loves a bit of Ed,” Harry shrugs.

“Very true,” Louis agrees with a nod of his head. 

The scenery around them is very simple. There are small cottages lining the edges of the street they’re walking down, large valleys of rolling hills and patches of forest hidden behind them. It’s a quiet, serene place, not very busy apart from the few cars driving by or a person strolling along the opposite way. The map they’re following has a set of directions below it that - from what he’s read - should be leading them through a lot more beautiful scenes as the day goes on which he's getting more excite about now.

After a few minutes they come across a stone bridge resting over a wide, gently flowing river. Louis stops for a moment to take it in then goes to continue on but Harry stops him before he can, pulling him over to the edge and holding his phone out to take a picture of them with some cottages and hills in the background. In the shot, Harry has an arm wrapped around Louis' shoulders and Louis' hair is blown back by the wind, but even with that it's wonderful all the same.

"Are we supposed to turn right or left at the white post?" Louis asks Harry as they approach the next stop.

"Well according to my calculations, we're supposed to go west here," Harry says, dropping his voice low and trying to sound proper.

"So left then," Louis deadpans.

"Oui, Lou-ee,” Harry singsongs. He bumps his hip against Louis’ and continues down the left path.

“This fresh air is already getting to your head,” Louis tells him only receiving a grin in return.

They have to climb over a ladder stile a few minutes later, finally leading them into the open fields and towards the woods. Louis can’t help but notice how this isn’t as much hiking as it is a long walk, but he ultimately decides that it’s an unimportant detail.

Harry races Louis across a section of the field and gets beaten by Louis’ quick feet. He tells Harry sorry, that he had an advantage because he played footie during school, but Harry just flips him off jokingly as they keep on walking.

Hundreds of steps across grassland, one hop over a stone wall, and a small trek through the woods eventually lead them to their first destination. Catrigg Force stands in front of them, the sounds of rushing water filling the air. It’s just as beautiful as Harry was telling him with the water falling smooth over the high cliff and the pool of water below full of moss and gentle ripples.

Harry takes a few pictures of them in front of it and takes a few just of the waterfall itself. They chance dipping their hands into the water and are surprised to find that it’s still warm even in the cold temperatures outside. Harry says something ominous about it being a good thing, but he doesn’t give into any more details so Louis drops the issue quick, though his suspicion remains until they leave for the next falls.

This path is supposedly going to be longer and more complex than the one they just did, but since it’s later in the afternoon and his limbs are warmed up, Louis feels more excited about it. At one point they stop to take a food and drink break on top of a hill that overlooks the town in the distance. It’s nice sitting up there with Harry, drinking cool water and munching on various fruits- he feels like he could do it everyday. Maybe even wishes that he could.

The map leads them down the riverside so they get the opportunity to take in the beautiful view beyond it and surrounding the edges. There are flowers Louis’ never seen before growing in patches along the water and there are numerous bridges, all with unique structures and make-ups that neither of them can help but stop to marvel at. 

For being so reluctant about this whole thing at first, Louis can definitely say he’s enjoying himself. It’s a relief to be able to get away from the city with a person he trusts, just let his mind wander from the stress of work and rest as it takes in the nature of the open fields and thick woods. He’s never particularly enjoyed exploring outside. He did when he was seven and got into everything, of course, but as he grew up, he found himself losing interest in the world around him, passing up opportunities to go out with his friends back in Doncaster more frequently than he’d like to admit to.

Louis has always been more about exploring physical things that he could feel like sex, drug, dancing in dirty clubs til the early morning hours. The center of his mind has blossomed around his love for doing things that make him feel alive for short periods of time rather than things that would stick in his memory for a while. Harry seems to be the complete opposite though and now maybe Louis understands why everyone tries to get him to see how great they are for each other.

As they wander closer to the edge of the town and cross over a road, Harry starts humming a tune. He’s nearly skipping beside Louis, looking completely in his element out here surrounded by nothing but grass and rolling hills of daisies. 

If there’s one thing no one can deny loving, it’s the sight of someone being in a state of complete happiness and bliss. Right now, Louis is looking at this beautiful boy in front of him, chewing on his plump lips and flitting his eyes from one thing to another with genuine interest. He can’t think of anything better he could be doing right now.

“We’re almost there!” Harry announces, turning to look at Louis with a wide smile on his face. 

“Little excited, aren’t you?” Louis laughs.

Harry nods his head eagerly and continues on forward, practically skipping across the ground. “Absolutely ecstatic.”

They cross another bridge similar to the very first and obviously take advantage of the photo op with a water mill sitting just meters away in the background. It’s at that moment too that Louis decides he doesn’t feel like walking any longer, like his legs are going to break if he takes another step.

“Harry, carry me the rest of the way,” Louis whines, sending the younger boy with a classic puppydog face.

“We’re literally less than half a mile away,” Harry responds, looking at Louis with a pleading look. “You can make that can’t you?”

“I warned you before we left that you’d have to carry me at some point and we’ve reached that point,” Louis tells him. He subtly moves forwards towards Harry and takes the larger hand into his own, rubbing at the back with his thumb. “You wouldn’t want me passing out would you? Or crying over two broken legs?”

They both know he’s overexagerrating but apparently it doesn’t take much to break Harry. He just sighs and chews down on his lip, turning around and crouching down. Louis happily hops onto the boy’s back, throwing his arms over his shoulders to wrap together on the front of his chest. Harry places his hands on the spot just below where Louis’ ass begins and he does his best not to think anything sexual about it while his crotch is pressed directly into Harry’s back below the backpack.

“You’re a pain,” Harry groans with no real menace behind the words.

“At least I’m a good looking one,” Louis snickers. Harry squeezes onto his thigh for that and Louis most definitely doesn’t let out a faint squeal of surprise. 

So they follow the directions past a few lone cottages and into a thick wooded area once again. Louis revels in how Harry doesn’t even seem to be struggling with holding him even as he has to climb up some decently steep inclines. He also takes it upon himself to try to steer Harry by grabbing the bun atop his head and yanking it whichever way he wants him to go. At first Harry just whines and tells him to stop yanking at it, but soon enough he gives in and they’re laughing together, running zig zagged through the forest, lucky no one’s around to see them being such idiots.

Twenty minutes later, the familiar sound of falling water hits their ears again. Harry manages to carry Louis all the way up to the edge of Stainforth Force, where the ground breaks off into the wide stream of water.

Unlike the last waterfall which was just one steep drop, this one is a gradual decline down with about three main drops of water accompanied by smaller, miniature looking waterfalls within them. It all leads to the end drop that’s a couple of feet long, gently pouring into a clear pool below.

As Louis takes in the piece of nature, he doesn’t even notice Harry stripping off beside him and resting his backpack down on the rocky floor. It’s not until he sees harry bend over and shake his hair out that Louis glances over and takes in the sight before him.

Harry’s standing there with his hair let loose in nothing but those damned yellow short-shorts which much in fact be swimming trunks. He’s got a lazy smirk on his face as he scratches at the butterfly on his stomach.

“Are you going to join me for a dip today, Louis?” He asks casually as if Louis even brought something to swim in.

“You’re out of your bloody mind, Styles,” Louis quips back with wide eyes. There’s no way in hell he’s getting in that water. 

“Oh come on, this day is supposed to be about breaking away from your comfort zone and doing things you’d never think of doing before,” Harry tells him like some kind of motivational speaker. 

It’s hard to focus and take him seriously while he’s wearing such little clothing, but Louis somehow manages that and standing his ground simultaneously. 

“Me coming out here should be enough of a step out of my comfort zone,” Louis says. “Fuck, if that’s a step then jumping into that water would be a giant _leap_.”

“What if we jumped in together?” Harry offers. He sound like he’s getting desperate now, though Louis has an itching feeling he’d jump in with or without him anyways. “We could hold hands and I promise I wouldn’t let go. It’d be amazing, I swear.”

The way Harry looks like a kicked puppy at the moment makes Louis turn over some thoughts in his mind. There’s nothing too bad about swimming in this water other than the fact that it’ll be extremely cold and he’d have to make do with no underwear on for the ride home. While those points are sitting fresh in his mind, he acts on impulse and starts pulling his clothes off before he’s remembered to even take his bag off.

Once he’s standing there in front of a giddy Harry in just his black briefs, he takes the boy’s hand and squeezes it tight. “Let’s do this before my mind catches up with my body.”

And that’s all the push either of them need before they’re bounding forward and leaping over the edge of the cliff. For a split second their bodies are floating together through the air together, completely free and unbound to the Earth until they splash into the cold water.

As soon as the first drop hits his skin, Louis practically feels numb. The water is all over his body, chilling him down to the bones and soaking every bit of him. When they come back to the surface, they both let out raspy screams at the temperature before laughing at each other.

“It’s so fucking cold but that was so _fucking fun_ ,” Louis says excitedly, his hair dripping down the back of his neck and running down his face.

“Told you it’d be worth it,” Harry smiles, all teeth and dimple. 

Louis sinks back under and blindly drags Harry down by the leg, eliciting a loud scream from the boy that gets instantly muffled by the water. Each time they pop back up from rough housing, Louis stares at Harry for as long as possible. He looks so amazing, so _beautiful_ with cheeks flushed pink and long hair falling in odd ways all around his head. His eyes are the brightest green they've ever been, practically shining with joy and all Louis can do is hope that his look the same to Harry.

After a few more minutes of swimming around in the pool, they decide it’s getting a bit too chilly and climb back out. Immediately the wind hits Louis’ body and he’s shivering, wrapping his arms around himself in a pitiful attempt at blocking away the cold. 

Harry takes notice and steps towards him, hesitantly wrapping his own arms around Louis’ smaller body and pulling him tightly into his slightly warmer chest. They stand like that for a little bit, Harry - apparently having more tolerance to the sudden temperature change - blocking the wind from biting at Louis’ skin and rubbing his hands across Louis’ back to create some heat.

Being this close together makes something inside of Louis burst. He’s not sure whether it’s the rush of adrenaline running through his body or the sheer fact that they’re half naked, embracing each other, but a thought screams loudly in his head and it nearly knocks him off his feet at the force at which it appears.

He knows he loves Harry. There’s no doubt in his mind at the moment that he fully, truly, one hundred percent is in love with the tall, curly-haired twenty year old that’s hugging him. It’s not the same kind of love that he feels for Zayn or his mom, but the kind of love that gets all of his nerve ends tingling and makes his stomach flutter.

As his mind is a mess, Harry slowly pulls himself back a little, creating a few inches between them now. It’s surprising how much more intimate this feels, their faces being so close yet not quite touching.

When Louis meets Harry’s eyes, he swears his heart stops for a few seconds. Then, Harry speaks.

“Today was incredible, Lou. I literally don’t think I’ve enjoyed myself so much in my entire life, and I’m glad I got to enjoy all of it with you,” he starts, looking at Louis earnestly. His cheeks are tinted red but it's hard to tell whether it's from the wind or the words he's speaking. “I know we’ve only known each other for just over a month, but I can honestly say I think I’ve been in love with you since the first time you walked in the cafe holding that soccer ball with messy hair and glasses sitting crooked on your nose. Really, I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you outside of the shop at uni, running around laughing and kicking a ball with Zayn. I didn't want to admit that it was you but shit, you looked so happy and now all I want is to be the one who helps you stay like that forever.”

It takes some time for all of the words to make sense, but when they do, Louis feels like he’s thirty pounds lighter. He feels lke he's floating away from his physical body, staring down at the two of them and taking it all in from a few feet above. Harry just said he loves him. That he’s had feelings for him since he saw Louis _years_ ago at uni before they had even said one word to each other. It hits him harder than expected and he actually feels tears coming to his eyes.

“Fuck, Harry, I love you too,” Louis gets out, his voice weak from emotion and his cold, trembling jaw. “God, I can't even compare to all you just said but I want to make you happy too. You're the brightest, sweetest person on the planet and I can't even begin to explain how much you deserve for your dimples to always pop and your eyes to shine brighter than an Emerald gem. You're such an influence in my life now and I need you to be mine.”

And without another word spoken, their faces are coming forward and their lips are finally meeting. Harry’s lips are so unsurprisingly soft on his own, somehow not the slightest bit chapped from the wind. They’re warm, thick, and fit between Louis’ own thin pair perfectly, both sets sliding together seamlessly and with an abundance of pent-up emotion.

The moment couldn’t have possibly turned out better. Sure, they could’ve had their first kiss stopped on top of a ferris wheel or while drinking expensive wine under the stars on top of the Eiffel Tower, but Louis believes it’s much better right now, both of them dripping wet by a waterfall, holding each other tightly and stealing the sun's job in keeping each other warm against the chill. 

Harry’s hands slowly drop to rest on Louis hips so Louis figures that’s enough permission as any to raise his hands and sink them into Harry’s long hair. He gently tugs at the strands and massages into Harry’s head as their lips continue to move together, the kiss never getting heated or turning into anything more than chaste and sweet.

Louis can't focus on anything other than the way Harry feels against his lips, the larger boy pulling him tightly against him as if he loosens his grip on Louis they'll be torn apart forever. The sound of rushing water, the cold drops blowing in the wind and prickling at his skin - it's all a bundle of numb senses in the back of his skull. For the first time in a while he's able to completely lose himself in the moment, able to understand what he wants and what he needs rather than panicking about what other people have to ask of him.

Eventually they have to break apart to get proper air and when they do, there’s a buzzing feeling in the surrounding air. Nothing needs to be said as Harry walks away to grab his extra sweatpants and hoodie, nothing as he hands them to Louis and he pulls them on over his damp body, nothing as Harry gets himself dressed with a bright grin shamelessly on display.

All Louis can think about is Harry for the rest of the day. Nothing about work or the city or the other numerous stresses of his life even crosses his mind as they head back to the car and make their way back home. They sing along to the same overplayed songs, laugh at their same typical banter, and both just revel in the feeling of assurance between them that they’ve each got someone to call their own now without it even having to be officially spoken. 

When they finally get back to Louis’ flat just after the sun sets and Harry leans over the center console of the car to kiss Louis one last time, his mind is still clear. As Harry cups his jaw so lightly and smiles into his lips like he's in pure bliss, Louis knows that Harry is definitely all he needed to ‘bring the life back to his life’. Harry is all he’s needed for a while now and certaintly all he’ll ever need for an eternity to come.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed and if you spot any mistakes, just let me know please!
> 
> and sorry this is set in a fictional world where you can jump into waterfalls in england in november and not get hypothermia. i just couldn't leave it out, even if the laws of nature would normally go against it.


End file.
